


Mend Your Soul

by Suituuup



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15843135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suituuup/pseuds/Suituuup
Summary: "There's no heartbeat."Saying it out loud rather than hearing the little voice inside her head makes it undeniably true, and everything crumbles around her. Of all the challenges marriage would bring, Beca never thought losing a baby would be one.





	Mend Your Soul

Beca feels empty.

Like a piece of her was ripped away from her body and left a gaping hole where her heart should be.

Drained of any palpable emotion past the suffocating pain having wormed its way inside her chest.

The reflection staring back at her in the mirror belongs more to a stranger than herself.

Her brain keeps replaying that day in her head, rewinding and fast forwarding to try and make sense of it all.

She wants to let it rest. To save her sanity from the onslaught of the should-have and what-ifs.

But she can't. It's engraved in her mind and likely to stay there forever.

She wants to understand; understand what could have possibly gone amiss, what she and Chloe could have possibly done wrong that would lead to the loss of their baby.

Their baby. Their son. The child they have wanted for so many years.

Now laying six feet underground.

/

It all started on a Thursday morning around eight. The first clue was right before her eyes, but she didn't pay much attention to it, maybe because she was in a rush for her company meeting.

Maybe if she had taken the time to worry about it, things would have turned out differently.

"Chlo?" Beca calls out, rounding the corner to step into their bedroom. Chloe is still laying in bed, red hair sprawled out over the pillow as she faces the large bay window, hand rubbing over her stomach.

She turns onto her back, then onto her side to face Beca, greeting her wife with a warm smile.

"Good morning."

Beca makes the short distance to the bed and kneels on the floor to kiss Chloe.

"Mmm," the redhead hums, tilting forward for another kiss, which Beca gladly gives her. Like she'd ever refuse Chloe a kiss. "Morning."

"Do you have to go to work today?" she asks then, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout.

Beca laughs, refraining from rolling her eyes at her wife's child-like expression. Her first thought is that she will de be done for if their baby takes after Chloe in the irresistible expressions department.  

"Unfortunately, yes. I would love nothing more than to stay here with you guys, but I have a record to wrap up."

"Alright," Chloe accepts with an understanding smile.

"Not very active, is he?" Beca muses, rubbing her thumb back and forth over Chloe's stomach in hope to feel a kick or a flutter. Their son is usually very active in the mornings.

"No," Chloe agrees. "Must still be asleep."

"Okay, I have to go," Beca announces, pushing onto her thighs to stand up after kissing Chloe once more. "Love you."

"Love you, too!"

/

"It's Chloe."

The panicked look painted on Emily's features tells Beca that something isn't right.

She's in the middle of a recording session with a very important artist to the label, but Beca chooses to ignore that fact and shoots up from her chair, nearly pushing Emily out of the doorway in her haste to get to her office.

The notion that she may be overreacting does flit through her mind briefly. But it's pushed away by the knowledge that Chloe wouldn't bother her at work unless it was an emergency. An emergency that Aubrey or Jesse couldn't be called for.

She snatches the phone off the wooden desk and presses it to her ear.

"Chlo?"

_"Beca."_

There's a definite waver in Chloe's voice that makes Beca's heart drop to her stomach with worry.

_"Something's wrong. I think we need to go to the hospital."_

"Breathe, baby," is the only thing she can come up with as her brain fills with possible scenarios. "I'm on my way."

She slams the phone on its receiver and spins around, almost crashing into Emily. A hurried apology flies out of her mouth as she grabs her wallet and keys and runs from the room.

The drive home is a blur. The only thing Beca is aware of is the web of voices inside her head, trapping her mind in loud and terrifying fog.

The ride to the hospital, though, is eerily quiet. Beca tries not to break any law that could cause an accident, foot wavering between pressing down on the accelerator to get to the hospital faster and hitting the brake pedal to slow them down, for gripping fright of what they might be told there. She holds Chloe's clammy hand in hers, and eventually chances a look towards her wife.

She wishes she hadn't.

Chloe's head is pressed against the window, gaze remaining blank despite the changing scenery outside. Her other hand is resting on her stomach, and Beca's throat gets painfully tight.

When they get to the clinic, their doctor greets them warmly, as she always does, and immediately takes them in an exam room for an ultrasound.

Beca's been in this spot many times; eagerly awaiting to hear their baby's heartbeat while the doctor preps everything. But right now, the only heartbeat she can hear is her own, thumping madly in her eardrums.

"Alright, let's see that baby," the doctor says with a kind smile, one that doesn't let on what Beca fears might be happening. A fuzzy image appears on the screen, and she grips Chloe's hand.

It's still.

As still as the sonogram picture from last month's check-up that proudly hangs on their fridge.

Beca swallows thickly as the doctor positions her wand a different way, chasing any movement. Chloe's eyes remain fastened on the screen, unblinking, but Beca can hear her breathing intensify in stiff apprehension.

"Okay, no need to get worried yet, I'll send a few vibrations to see if he responds."

She straps a device to Chloe's stomach, pressing a button to send a vibration. The screen remains unmoving through each try.

"Let's check for a heartbeat."

Beca's last ray of hope slips away from her when she notes the doctor's change of demeanor in her voice.

The silence that surrounds them crushes Beca under its weight. She wants that silence to be broken by the definite swoosh-swoosh that they've heard before and learned to cherish.

Instead, it's shattered by the sob wrenching itself from Chloe's throat.

The doctor sets her equipment down and looks at them somberly.

"There's no heartbeat. I'm sorry."

Beca immediately tunes her out.

She thinks she hears something about 'stillbirth', and how these things 'happen'.

She's read about it in the pregnancy book and remembers thinking how parents move on from such a terrible thing as losing their child.

Beca can't answer that because she's not sure they will.

She grips Chloe's hand harder and rests her forehead against the side of her head, feeling like she's about to suffocate from the unknown feelings seizing her chest; she doesn't know if it's sadness, dread or grief, or a combination all three.

She just knows it _hurts_. Hurts more than anything she's been through before.

And her heart hurts even more for Chloe when the doctor asks her if she wants them to induce labor now or wait until the term in a week.

That detail got propelled to the back of Beca's brain: the fact that Chloe would have to deliver their baby anyway.

Their dead baby.

Chloe tells them quietly that she wants them to induce labor, and Beca starts to wonder how their day turned from wonderful to tragic in the span of five minutes.

How their life suddenly get altered within these five minutes.

The doctor steps out, and as the door flaps shut upon her departure, they are left alone for the first time since the news.

"Beca, I…" Chloe's blue eyes hold so much sorrow when she looks at Beca that the brunette feels her legs get dangerously weak. Like they might crush from the excruciating amount of pain. "I-I'm _sorry_."

Of all the things Beca expected Chloe to say, this wasn't on the list, and it halts her breathing. This is the last thing she wants; Chloe blaming herself. Even though Beca blames herself, too.

"No," she says sternly, her tone contrasting the gentle hold in which she cradles Chloe's jaw. "Don't you dare blame yourself. This isn't your fault, _please_ believe that."

Her voice sticks to her throat, held hostage by the mist surrounding her vocal chords. She grits her teeth tightly to keep from breaking down.

She needs to remain strong for the next couple hours, for what Chloe is about to go through, although it feels like her entire world is crumbling down around them and trapping them in the dark.

"Can you-" Chloe starts but falters, lifting her shaking hand to cover her eyes. She draws in a deep breath as the first few tears spill down onto her cheeks. "Can you call my parents? They were supposed to come next week."

"I…" Beca hesitates, wary about leaving Chloe on her own. "Yeah, okay."

She leans in to press a lingering kiss on Chloe's forehead, and feels Chloe's fist curl into her shirt, grasping for dear life.

"I love you."

Beca steps out of the room and rushes towards the exit, maneuvering around the hustle and bustle of the clinic halls.

The cold air that greets her when she steps out leaves her short of breath and stings her lungs, but that burning sensation is nothing compared to the one slowly setting in her chest.

Beca leans against a pillar, bending at the waist to make the feeling of nausea seizing her stomach go away. She breathes in and out slowly in hopes to collect herself enough for the dreaded call.

As her thumb hovers over Chloe's mom's name, she speed-dials #2 instead.

 _"Becaw,"_ Jesse's chirpy voice sounds on the other end. _"What's up?"_

She doesn't know what to say, except for the same sentence that goes around in a never-ending loop in her brain.

"There's no heartbeat."

_"What?"_

She hates him for making her say it again.

"There's no heartbeat, our baby has no heartbeat."

That's when she loses it. Saying it out loud rather than hearing the little voice inside her head makes it undeniably true, and everything crumbles around her.

She slides against the wall, trying to muffle her sobs by biting hard on the back of her hand, but it's useless. Her chest and throat ache with each sharp intake of breath cutting through the cold January air.

She lets Jesse comfort her as best as he can over the phone.

/

She isn't ready for the delivery.

Isn't ready for Chloe's agony, the fiercest she has ever witnessed; both physical and emotional.

Hours of wracking and shaking in pain.

For what is supposed to be the most joyful moment of their lives. It's supposed to be wonder and amazement toward the newest addition to the family.

Instead, it's a soundless bustle. Grim glances shot their way when the nurses think Beca isn't looking.

Chloe is crying silently, both from exhaustion and heartbreak, while Beca stares, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny human being wrapped in a blanket mere feet from her.

"No."

Chloe's answer is immediate when the nurse asks her if she wants to hold their son. Beca cuts her eyes to her wife's, bloodshot and puffy.

"Chloe…"

"I-I can't," she reaches out to wipe her tears away with the back of her hand, but the motion turns out being useless. Fresh ones topple over to curl around her cheek and drop from her chin. "I _can't_ , Beca."

"Okay, okay," Beca whispers, throat bobbing up and down in a painful swallow. "You don't have to."

Beca wants her to, though. She doesn't want her wife to have any regrets and knows she will if she never holds her son.

It's another hour before Chloe changes her mind, and eventually asks for their baby to be brought to them. Chloe cradles the bundle in her arms and pushes the blanket away slightly to see their baby's face better, as Beca sits by her side.

"He's so small," Chloe murmurs, voice heavy with emotion and awe. Beca finds a small smile deep inside of her, and it graces her lips briefly. She runs the back of her finger over the smooth skin of her son's cheek.

"He's beautiful," Beca says, eyes tracing each detail of her son's features, as if to burn them into her brain forever. He looks asleep, peaceful. That's how she wants to remember him. "He looks like you."

Chloe lets out a shaky breath and cuts her eyes to Beca's.

"What do you think?"

Beca rests her head against Chloe's shoulder, giving her tense muscles a break.

"I think Jamie would suit him."

During the entire pregnancy, they haven't been able to choose between the names Jamie and Jackson, and agreed they would decide once he is born.

"I agree. Jamie Mitchell." Chloe bends down to press her lips to his forehead, letting them linger on his skin until a sob worms its way out and she gently hands him to Beca.

Beca holds him close and talks to him, telling about his moms and their lives.

She sings to him, rocking him gently from side to side, until her voice breaks under the unbearable weight of emotion that prevents her from resuming.

She bends down to kiss his forehead, inhaling his baby scent.

"Mama loves you with all her heart."

/

They go home a few hours later.

Beca sets the hospital bag on the table by the door, hitting the lights to chase away the darkness that neither she nor Chloe needs.

"There, um," she holds the paper bag in her hand for Chloe to see. "The nurse gave me some painkillers if you have cramps. I'll leave them here."

Chloe nods, blinking twice in slow succession.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I'm, um, I'm not hungry."

With both hands, Chloe pushes her hair away from her face, letting them drift down to hook behind her neck. She rolls her lips together, as if to reign the emotions back in.

"I think I'll go lie down for the night."

Beca nods, eyes flickering upwards to keep the tears at bay.

"Okay."

Beca remains rooted to her spot as Chloe walks past her, heavy steps getting further and further away as she climbs up the stairs to their bedroom.

Beca's stomach growls, reminding her that she hasn't had anything to eat in the last ten hours. She goes to the kitchen to find something to quench her hunger and checks her phone while the food heats up in the microwave.

There are a few texts from Jesse, telling her he called Emily and her boss at the studio for her not to have to come in for the next few days, and that he loves her. Two missed calls and a text from Aubrey tell her that Jesse explained what was going on.

**From: Aubrey Swanson**

_You and Chloe are in our thoughts. Tell me when/if I can come by later this week. Love you both._

Beca purses her lips and inhales through her nose deeply, typing out a quick reply,

_Thank you. Could you do me a favor and tell the girls? I don't want them messaging us about the baby throughout next week and I can't do it right now._

Beca turns her phone off once the message goes through and sets it face down on the table. She retrieves her food from the microwave, takes a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing with difficulty.

She drops her fork back in the container with a clutter and pushes it away from her, hunger being replaced by sudden nausea.

"Goddamn it," she grits out, burying her face into her hands.

Trapped between devastation and anger, her brain keeps trying to understand why it happened to _them_.

It may sound selfish, but she's too sorrowful to care. It feels undeserved and injust.

Chloe has always wanted to be a mother and would have been an amazing one.

Beca eventually shuffles up the bedroom, where the lights are already turned off, but Beca can tell from Chloe's breathing that she isn't sleeping.

Beca gets rids of her jeans, dumping them on the floor, before lying down underneath the covers and tentatively wrapping an arm around Chloe's waist. To her relief, Chloe's melts into her and grips her hand, lacing their fingers together.

"I love you, Chlo."

That's the only thing she can say, simply because it's the only thing she is certain of.

A gentle squeeze to her hand draws a relieved breath from Beca.

"I love you, too."

/

Beca deeply wanted yesterday to end before it did. She didn't think about tomorrow and the mind-altering realization it would bring forth.

She and Chloe are _no longer_ mothers.

They had already thought about Christmases and birthdays. When to get him a dog and his first bike. 

Chloe spends the day laying in bed, staring at their view over the Brooklyn Bridge through the large bay window of their bedroom.

Beca stays with her, hand absently running through Chloe's red locks as she sits with her back against the headboard.

She holds her wife when her cramps get particularly painful.

When Chloe eventually falls asleep, Beca busies herself to escape her own thoughts. She cleans up the apartment, goes out to buy groceries and makes a soup that Chloe won't even take a sip of.

The same pattern goes on for several days.

They don't talk about it.

They don't talk about anything, really.

/

The memorial is held a week later. It's raining.

Chloe cries. Beca holds her.

Chloe spends the rest of the day in the nursery.

Sometime during the night, Beca wakes up to sniffles coming from the bathroom. She follows the light filtering from underneath the door and opens it to find Chloe sat on the floor, knees tucked into her chest as she silently sobs.

She sits next to her wife, gathers her into her arms, and whispers sweet nothings into her ear. But there's nothing more she can do, especially when Chloe tells her all she wants is to hold their baby again.

Chloe spends more and more time in the nursery. Beca can't bring herself to go in there, yet.

She throws herself into work.

/

Beca still doesn't understand.

Her eyes blink back at her own reflection in the mirror, blink back to the present.

She sighs and turns off the faucet, quickly drying her hands before stepping back into the hallway.

"Chlo?" she calls out tentatively, softly, as she stops by the nursery. Chloe's eyes meet hers briefly, blinking back to the task a second later. "I made dinner."

Chloe brushes her hair from her face and shakes her head. "I, I'm not hungry."

Beca sighs and pads inside for the first time in two weeks. She manages to fight the onslaught of emotions welling up inside her at the sight of animal-painted walls and photos of she and Chloe hanging from them. She tries not to think about all the love they poured into making this room the perfect nest for their first child.

She sits down on the wooden floor, stilling Chloe's movements by placing her hands over hers.

"You need to eat. This isn't healthy."

Chloe's hands slip from her hold and go back to folding a onesie.

"I'm not hungry."

"Tell me what to do," Beca pleads, trying not to let her brain dwell on the fact that Chloe has been avoiding any affectionate gesture coming from her.

Her Chloe; the chirpiest, kindest, most enthusiastic and affectionate person she knows is giving up, letting the turmoil of grief take her down into endless darkness.

"It kills me to watch you doing this to yourself, and I want to _help_."

Chloe's cold, expressionless eyes meet hers, and Beca's insides freeze over.

"I'm sorry I'm such a burden."

Beca feels her patience tethering. It's slipping through her fingers and she's struggling to grasp it.

Much like Chloe.

"That is not what I meant, and you _know_ it."

Chloe stands and starts to place the freshly washed and folded clothes into the cupboard drawers.

The same task she has completed every day since coming home from the memorial.

Chloe slams the drawer when she's done, and whirls around to face Beca, red hair whipping against her shoulders.

"We lost our _child_ , Beca!" She shouts, eyes wide and bottom lip trembling. "How do you expect me to _feel_?!"

"I want you to let me help you," Beca replies as she stands, trying to remain collected despite Chloe's harsh tone starting to claw at her already battered heart. "You're shutting yourself out and…" she pauses, the stinging in her chest too great to be ignored.

" _I_ lost this baby, too, you know."

"It's not the same."

Beca stops in her tracks, not certain if her ears and lack of sleep are playing tricks to her brain or if those words were actually produced from Chloe's mind.

What is unsaid but not necessarily unheard floats between the two of them. Beca didn't carry the baby so she can't be feeling the same amount of pain Chloe is.

The unspoken words hang in the tick, palpable air, crushing Beca's chest in the manner of heavy bricks, and the only way that weight can be lifted is if Chloe takes those words back.

She doesn't.

Instead, she stares at Beca defiantly, challenging her to say something, challenging her wife to punch back and hurt her as much as she hurt Beca.

But Beca's voice dies in her throat, along with any hope that they might get past this.

She nods her head, more to herself than to Chloe and rams her teeth into the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.

"Right."

Beca leaves the room and shuts the door quietly behind her, not able to muster the energy to slam it. Chloe's muffled sob reaches her ears, but Beca doesn't stop.

She goes for a walk, hoping the freezing air of New York will somehow clear her thoughts. She smokes cigarette after cigarette, enjoying the way the nicotine fills her lungs.

At least it makes her feel something other than grief.

She doesn't know how long she walks for. Her numb legs carry her aimlessly while her brain follows without much care or purpose.

The sun has long set when she comes back to their apartment, and she sheds her coat, dragging her feet to the kitchen to get herself something to drink. Something strong enough to muffle her feelings.

Or lack of.

The yellow note on the fridge makes her step falter. It's stuck next to the sonogram picture, written without a doubt in Chloe's handwriting, but lacks her wife's usual doodles or smileys in the corner. Beca reaches for it with trembling fingers.

_I have to get away for a bit. I'll be at my folks._

_I'll call you when I'm ready._

_Chloe x_

Beca feels her breathing come into sharp tugs as she reads the note several times. A bittersweet taste settles in her mouth.

She quickly walks to the bedroom, and finds that Chloe's suitcase is gone, too. Panic grips at her insides as she fails to understand how Chloe could leave without so much as saying goodbye.

She reaches into the back pocket of her jeans to grasp her phone and dials number 1. The call goes directly to voicemail and her phone is chugged at the wall before her brain can catch up with her erratic movements.

"Fuck!"

She is mad.

Mad at Chloe for leaving, mad at her selfishness for thinking that Beca isn't hurting, too. Mad at the world for what they are going through. Mad at a God she doesn't believe in for putting them through this.

Mad, mad, mad.

The brunette marches down the stairs, shoves her feet back into her boots, puts her coat back on, and gets into the car.

She drives faster than she should, relishing the feeling of speed and the roaring of the engine quieting down the chatter in her head. Tires squeak, a car door slams, hasty footsteps climb the series of staircases until Beca finds herself in front of a familiar door and knocks.

Knocks until her knuckles hurt.

Knocks until the fucking door swings open.

"Is Chloe here?"

Beca doesn't recognize her own voice. It's broken and hoarse from the smoking.

Jesse stares at her with wide eyes as she roughly pushes past him to skim her eyes over the living-room, desperately hoping, begging to catch a glimpse of red hair.

Beca whips around to face her best friend, whose mouth remains agape, and she wants to yell at him to catch up more quickly and give her a damn answer.

"Jesse!" she shouts, but it only comes out strained and shattered, void of the intimidation she aimed for. "Is my _wife_ here?"

"What? No, she isn't here," Jesse tells her with such a calm voice that she wonders if she even shouted or if it was just a figment of her imagination. He closes the door and grasps her elbow gently to lead her somewhere else, but she recoils from his touch.

Jesse lifts his hands up slightly, eyes apologetic, though he didn't do anything wrong.

She's the one that's fucked up.

"Beca, what's going on?"

"I don't _know_!" she bellows, aware of the fact that her vision is steadily getting more blurred. She can feel the links of the chains wrapped around her heart snap one by one.

"I don't know what's fucking going on! My wife _left_. She wrote me a fucking note and left!"

"What the hell, Beca?"

The voice doesn't belong to Jesse, but to his wife, who materialized around the corner.

Aubrey is staring at Beca with a frown, hands covering the ears of their two-year-old, who herself is looking at Beca with wide, fearful eyes as if she were a complete stranger.

Beca stills. It's the first time she sees her goddaughter since that fateful day.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her rage flying out of the window to be replaced by something much more powerful that rips inside her chest.

The dam breaks; releasing all the emotions Beca has tried so hard to suppress around Chloe.

She's drowning.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

For the first time since that day, Beca cries; ugly, angry sobs wrench themselves from her throat to fill the stunned room.

Her knees give out from underneath her and hit the parquet floor with a thud. The physical pain she feels is nothing compared to the storm materializing in her chest.

She wraps her own arms around her body, repeating the same apology again and again, more to herself and to her child than to the people around her.

She feels herself rocking, in the same mantra that she would rock her son to calm him down if he were here.

At some point, she also feels strong arms wrap themselves around her body, trying to chase away her demons, but failing. Those arms remain there, though, offering wordless support, until there are no tears left for her to cry, until there's no more energy left in her to fight the comfort brought by the tentative hold around her.

"Shh," she hears in her ear, and relaxes in her best friend's arms, muscles strained and tired from remaining tense all this time. "You will get through this. Both of you."

"I'm not sure we'll get through it together."

Beca notices Jesse lifting his eyes to meet Aubrey's, concern etched in both their features. She swipes a thumb underneath both eyes as she stares blankly at the carpet.

"She left when I'm hurting too. This isn't _fair_. She's mad that I didn't show my feelings enough but that's how I deal with things." She sighs, fresh tears coming around to replace the dried ones. "She's mad I didn't cry."

Aubrey crouches down to her level and squeezes Beca's shoulder.

"I think it's difficult for her because she doesn't understand why you cope differently. Maybe some time apart will do you good."

"But I _miss_ her," Beca croaks out, bottom lip wavering. It has scarcely been an hour since Chloe's left, yet she feels as though she's not whole. "I _need_ her."

"I know," Aubrey says softly, and is the one to pull Beca close this time. The short woman ends up being sandwiched between the couple but doesn't mind.

She's missed the closeness. She's missed hugs. Chloe's, to be more specific, but she'll settle for this.

"I think you need to give her some time. You are welcome to stay here as long as you want."

Beca nods against Aubrey's shoulder, before pulling away to hastily wipe at her cheeks once more.

"Maybe tonight. I don't think I can drive."

"Okay. The guest bedroom is all yours."

She ends up staying three weeks with Aubrey and Jesse. Surprisingly, being around Isabella soothes her soul and chases away those little voices inside her head.

/

Beca zips up her suitcase and sighs, reaching for her phone.

The screen is void of any signs from Chloe. She sits on the bed in Jesse and Aubrey's guest bedroom, and dials her number, for the first time in 22 days.

She ignores the pang of pain when it directly goes to voicemail, once again.

_"Hi! This is Chloe Mitchell, I can't answer right now but I'll make sure to come back to you. Bye!"_

Beca's heart longs to hear that joyful tone again.

"Hey. It's me," she starts, looking down at her lap as she toys with the white gold band on her ring finger. "It's been three weeks and I can't stand being without you for much longer. Not talking to you it's… it's unbearable. I miss you, Chlo. I know you're hurting but please, _please_ come home. I love you with all my heart."

/

The apartment is still empty when she walks through the door after all this time away.

A stuffy smell has settled in their home, and dust gathered on every surface. Beca drops her bag next to the door, moving to the landline phone to check for any messages. She puts it on speaker, so she can wash the few dishes left untouched all this time while listening to them.

_"Hi Beca, this is Catherine, Chloe's mother."_

Beca pauses, the cup she was washing slipping from her hold to drop in the sink-filled-water. She wipes her hands with a towel and intently listens to the rest of the message.

_"I'm guessing you are hurting as much as Chloe is right now. She's been here for the last three weeks and has only gotten slightly better. As much as she can without you in her life. She doesn't know I'm calling you, but I think you should come down here. She needs you, and I think you need her, too. No one should go through this alone. Alright, I hope you get this message. Remember you are family to us and this is your home, too. Love you. Bye."_

The automatic voice tells Beca there's no new message, but Beca isn't paying attention. She reaches into her back pocket for her phone and opens her flight browser app. Twenty minutes later, she's on her way to JFK, knee bouncing up and down and heart in her throat.

She longs to see Chloe, her Chloe. The one she knew before all of this unfolded.

As the cab rolls down to a stop in front of the Beale mansion, Beca suddenly wonders if this was a good idea. She is not sure her soul can take another fight. She steps out of the car, bag in hand, and pauses.

Chloe is standing in the doorway of the house with an unreadable look on her face, and Beca's breathing halts.

Then Chloe is moving, taking quick strides down the path, walking, then running towards Beca.

Beca meets her in the middle, dropping her bag to the ground with a thud to catch Chloe just as the redhead collides into her. She wraps her arms tightly around her, relishing Chloe's warmth and drinking in her scent.

Beca is overwhelmed by a series of different emotions that she can't quite place, but the one that overtakes them all is relief. She's back where she belongs; with Chloe.

Her wife, her love, her life.

They remain in each other's arms for a long time, stranded in Chloe's parents' driveway, reluctant to let go of one another.

It must be a few minutes at most, but it feels like a lifetime.

Beca pulls away just enough to kiss Chloe softly, for the first time in too long, and cherishes the way their lips still fit perfectly like puzzle pieces.

They part, foreheads resting against the other's, eyes locked by an invisible bond.

"Don't ever leave me again," Beca whispers, a sob catching in her throat. She grabs Chloe's hands and takes them off her waist, bringing them to her mouth to press a kiss on each palm. "I can't _live_ without you."

Chloe cups Beca's face with both hands and captures her lips in a long kiss, full of love and apology that anchors Beca back to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Chloe chokes out, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Beca. I shouldn't have left. I will _never_ leave you again, I promise."

Beca breathes out, closing her eyes briefly as she lets Chloe's words sink in and soothe her aching heart. She grips the lapel of Chloe's polo shirt, pulling her down into another searing kiss.

"I love you."

Beca lets out a watery laugh and buries her face in the crook of Chloe's neck. "I love you, too, Chlo."

Beca is aware of Chloe's parents lingering in the doorway, arms crossed over their chests with small smiles painted on their lips. They greet Beca with warm hugs and usher her inside to a table full of wonderful things to eat.

To Beca's surprise and relief, Chloe eats a normal portion of food without having to be coaxed.

They make love that night, and it feels as though they are re-discovering each other again. They are both tentative, patient, and overly caring with one another.

Touches linger, mending broken souls and making up for past mistakes.

"What now?" Chloe asks softly, much later, as they lie in bed in the dim-light bathed room. The various patterns she's tracing just above Beca's breast make Beca's lids drop.

"Now…" Beca trails off, taking the time to find the right words, "Now we heal."

"I don't want to go home," Chloe admits after a beat of silence. Beca feels a tear drip down on her skin and runs a hand up and down Chloe's arm in silent solace. "I'm scared of the memories, Bec."

"We can stay here as long as you need."

Chloe lifts her head from Beca's chest to seek her eyes, "What about your job?"

"I don't have one anymore."

"What?" Chloe asks with a frown.

"I got dismissed," Beca explains, shoulder lifting in a shrug. It's not important to her anymore. Not as important as getting her love back. "I guess that's what usually happens when you stop showing up."

"Beca…"

Beca clears her throat. "After you left, I completely broke down and couldn't go back to work. My boss was understanding the first week, but three weeks was too much."

"I…" Chloe opens and closes her mouth several times, at loss for words. "I'm sorry for not seeing your pain. You coped differently, and I didn't - _couldn't_ \- understand."

Beca presses her lips to Chloe's hair, letting them linger for a moment while she inhales her wife's scent. It smells like home. "I didn't want to cry in front of you. I thought it would help you if I remained strong, and eventually that fight suppressed my feelings altogether."

"And I thought you weren't grieving, and I was mad at you."

Chloe's sob echoes throughout the room and inside Beca's chest, knocking against her sternum.

"God, I'm so sorry, Bec."

Beca shuffles down to be level with Chloe,

"Please stop apologizing," she whispers, kissing Chloe gently, thumb grazing her cheekbone. "Yes, I was mad at you for leaving. But it doesn't matter anymore now. What I want is for us to be okay. We need a fresh start. No more apologies, from neither of us. We _deserve_ to heal."

She wipes Chloe's tears away and kisses the tip of her nose, giving her a gentle smile.

"Okay?"

Chloe grabs Beca's hand gently and repeatedly runs her thumb over the letter J now inked in the inside of Beca's wrist. She leans in to kiss the tattoo.

"Okay."

/

They go home two weeks later.

They put Jamie's clothes and his sonogram pictures in a box labeled with his name. Beca adds the song she wrote for him during their time apart, scribbled down on a sheet of paper.

Chloe insists that she sing it, and Beca hesitates, not sure she can, but eventually caves.

They are both crying by the end of it, but the good kind of crying. The crying that brings forth closure.

They leave the nursery as it is, with its animal painted walls and matching wooden crib, cupboard, changing table and rocking chair.

They leave it with a promise to use it sometime in the near future.

They leave it with hope for new beginnings.

/

They take a three-month trip around southern Europe, on one of Beca's former artists' boat.

They drink wine in Italy, learn about Greek history, hike the French Alps and, amidst all that, fall deeper in love with one another.

Beca truly wonders how it's possible, to fall more in love with your soulmate than you already were to begin with.

Then, she thinks about what she and Chloe have been through, and how they didn't let it be the end of their story but rather the starting point for a new chapter.

But they never forget. It's not like they _want_ to forget. The memories are still there, in the back of their minds, sometimes simply filtering through, sometimes insistant.

They talk about it when they feel the need to, no questions asked. Sometimes one of them breaks down, and the other picks up the pieces to put the puzzle back together.

Their souls are a little bit cracked, and will most likely remain that way, but that's okay. That's how the light gets in.

Beca carries their son on her skin and Chloe adorns his name on a chain around her neck, worn low, close to her heart.

Beca smiles softly as she watches Chloe tipsily weave herself into conversation with some locals at the next table, jabbering in her left-over Spanish from high school.

Beca thinks she's beautiful, sun-kissed-skin glowing in the candle-light, red locks flowing just past her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling in unrestrained happiness.

She thinks she would love nothing more than to have tiny replicas of her wife running around their apartment in the near future.

She thinks about the promise they have made to each other before leaving New York.

She thinks they are both ready to add a new character to the rest of their story.

/

Charlotte Emily Mitchell comes into the world thirteen months later.

She comes out with a piercing wail that has both her moms cry with joy.

When Charlotte is old enough to understand, they take her to the cemetery and introduce her to her big brother; their little angel.


End file.
